


It's Only Been A Lifetime

by punto_y_coma



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everybody Dies/Nobody Lives, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - The Good Place (TV) Fusion, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier Bantering, Everybody Dies, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, The Turtle CAN Help Us (IT)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22194397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punto_y_coma/pseuds/punto_y_coma
Summary: IT was defeated but it cost them everything. An eternal being was always watching and was willing to meddle to reunite the Losers Club once more in the afterlife, in the Good Place. Our heroes are safe at last, albeit, with their Derry memories forgotten. Then again, when has anything ever been simple for the Losers?Everybody Dies/Nobody Lives + The Good Place AU(It’s not necessary to have seen The Good Place to read this; it only helps to understand some of the jokes.)
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 60
Kudos: 143





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know if this has been done before, but I hope you enjoy it!

Richie opened his eyes.

"Welcome! Everything is fine," the wall of the waiting room read in bold letters. Weirdly enough, he believed it. The couch was comfortable, the air was light and his clothes felt like they were fresh out of the dryer. Hell, even his lungs felt cleaner and his head less fuzzy.

The door opened with a sigh.

"Richie Tozier?"

He perked up and turned to find a young woman dressed like a kindergarten teacher or maybe a stewardess of some newly rebranded airline.

"Come on in," she said in a soothing voice.

Richie followed her inside, the room was all fancy décor, cream walls and wooden panels. She waited for him to sit down, settle and smile awkwardly.

"So, Richie," she grabbed a folder with his name on it, "welcome! My name is Janet. You're dead and you're in the Good Place," she said.

"Right..." Richie said, suddenly aware that he didn't remember how he'd gotten to that office; his first thoughts going to those terrible prank shows, the distinct possibility of being roofied via scotch, and that maybe this signaled the beginning of the end of his career.

"If it's any consolation, you died at the peak of your career. Like James Dean. Or Selena Quintanilla," Janet continued neatly his train of thought and Richie stared, mouth agape. "I'll let you process that for a minute," Janet allowed, "humans have a slow response when it comes to death, I've found."

"'Humans'?" he repeated.

"I'm an anthropomorphized vessel of knowledge. Not human, not robot. I know everything," she explained, Siri-like in her delivery.

"Right, right," Richie scrunched his face, his mind frantically trying to go back to his last memory. "Last thing I remember was prepping for that show in- what was it? Chicago?"

Janet opened his file, went through its pages for a second and then promptly closed it. "I don't know why I did that; I know everything," she giggled. "It was Boston," she said, her gaze somewhere behind Richie's head. "Your memory was erased after that. It's standard procedure for violent and embarrassing deaths. I can tell you how you died, if you want."

"Uh- Yeah, why not," he might as well, he thought, resigned.

"You were crushed to death in a house collapse," Janet said brightly.

Richie laughed. It started as a snort and then progressively turned into thunderous, manic cackles. Maybe it was Janet's joyful delivery; maybe it was the feeling of certainty in his bones that this was all true; or maybe it was just his shitty sense of humor. The point being that something inside him broke and he was suddenly convinced of everything.

"So- so-" he managed to say even though he was still laughing so hard he was crying. "So I died?"

"Yes," Janet smiled patiently.

"Buried in someone's basement?"

"Yes."

"RIP Richie?"

"That's the plan."

"And I'm in the Good Place?"

"Yes."

"Oh," Richie sighed, calming down finally, "well, thank fuck!" his relieved smile contorted into a frown. "Or thank God? Can he hear us?" he whispered to Janet.

"God's not here, Richie," Janet said, looking vaguely amused.

"Oh," he deflated. "Never mind."

"There’s someone you should meet," Janet opened the door to let a man in. He was about Richie's age, blue eyed, with salt and pepper hair. "This is Bill Denborough. We're a little understaffed today -I'm not even supposed to be doing check-ins- so he will show you around. If you need anything just say 'Hey, Janet'."

With that, Janet disappeared with a pop.

"What the fuck?!" Richie muttered.

"You get used t-to it," Bill offered a kind smile to Richie. "Come on."

Bill walked him out of the office and into the town. It was sunny out, not scorching yet; it felt like the first days of summer.

“So, Richie,” Bill started. “How are you holding up?”

“Surprisingly, I’m okay,” Richie replied sincerely. He took a deep breath and looked around.

The neighborhood seemed quite compact, the kind of place where you can walk or bike everywhere. There was a park that turned into a forest and extended as far as the eye could see. The storefronts had that kind of old school design that reminded Richie of his childhood, but they were bright and brand new. There was an ice-cream shop that sold soft serve, the sight of it triggering some long lost memory, the memory of grubby hands and uneven breaths…

“Everyone is here? I mean, everyone good?” Richie asked.

“No, this is just one neighborhood. I haven’t asked how many more there are… They plan them especially to make the residents happy. The weather, the food, that kind of stuff,” Bill shrugged. “I heard there’s a neighborhood where cussing’s not allowed.”

Richie closed his eyes for a second. “How the hell does that work?”

“I think when they say ‘fuck’ it comes out as ‘f-fork’, ‘duck’ instead of ‘dick’… You get the gist.”

“Oh, that’s hilarious!” Richie cackled.

“I don’t understand the science behind it, to be honest, but I really do like it here,” Bill smiled.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Anything you want t-to know?” Bill asked. “It feels stupid to just t-tell you where everything is.”

What Richie really wanted to know was how he’d managed to get into the Good Place. He was just a mediocre comedian, he hadn’t killed anyone, but he also hadn’t donated to charity as much as he could have, and he had forgotten to recycle his plastic bottles almost every time. And then there was his secret…

“How long have you been here, Big Bill?” he asked instead because, as much as he liked Bill and instinctively felt like he could trust him, they had literally just met.

“Big Bill! Nobody’s ever called me that!” he giggled, partly because Richie was actually taller than him but also because it made him feel like they were friends already. “I’ve been here a couple of months. T-time’s weird here, it’s not like time on Earth. My neighbors –Stan and Patty- they’ve been here for over a year, and we died only a few days ap-part.”

“Weird,” Richie repeated absently. They were walking through the town, towards something but he didn’t know what it was. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you-? You know…” Richie gestured crudely to represent his throat being cut and then stuck his tongue out. Bill cackled.

“I was shot,” he said simply.

“Oh, that’s rough, buddy,” Richie replied sympathetically.

“I don’t remember it. Ap-parently, they used a captive bolt gun, you know, the guns they use to kill cows,” Bill added.

“Ugh,” Richie scrunched his nose. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I kind of like that it was a little gory. I wrote horror novels when I was alive,” he explained.

“Ah! I thought your name sounded familiar!” Richie jabbed his finger on Bill’s arm. “I always saw your books in airports and shit. Never read one, though.”

“My endings weren’t great,” Bill said humbly. They had left the downtown bustle and were standing now in front of a small house with a big porch and a yard full of wild flowers; Bill was already walking to the door. “This is you.” Richie frowned, staying put. “Your house,” Bill explained, and Richie frowned even more. “What, you were thinking you were going to sleep on the streets? Come on!” Richie hurried to catch up with him.

The interior was simple and a little lived in; it wasn’t pristine like a house a real estate agent would use for show, it was more like an Airbnb, with worn out blankets and comfy couches. There were videogames and movies and records -so many records- and a view of the park from his backyard.

“Holy shit!” Richie muttered.

“Glad you like it, buddy,” Bill smiled and let Richie look around for a bit, very amused every time Richie lit up saying "No, way! It's the director's cut of Blade Runner!" and "Do you think these walls are sound proof?"

"I've got one last surprise for you," Bill said cryptically after a while.

"Am I getting a puppy?" Richie asked stupidly.

"No. W-well, you could ask Janet for one but that's not it. Think b-bigger."

Richie arched his eyebrows. "Two puppies?"

Bill rolled his eyes and walked out of the house, urging Richie to follow him.

"Okay, so," they were walking side by side, hands in pockets, as Bill talked, "soulmates are real."

"Okay," Richie frowned. The day had already been so fucking weird, he was ready to believe in anything, honestly. However, there was still the issue of...

"Got you so far?" Bill asked and Richie nodded. "It's not necessarily someone you've met b-before, though it can be. Like Stan and P-patty, they were married on Earth and met again here. Usually, it's someone you've been super close to meeting but it never happened, like me and Mike. I was a writer, he was a fan, w-we almost met once, years ago-"

"Wait!" Richie interrupted. "Your soulmate's name is Mike? As in Michael? As in a guy?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh, thank fuck!" Richie stopped for a moment, his hands on his knees, sighing with relief. "I didn't know if I was actually allowed to be here," he let out a humorless chuckle.

Bill stood by his side and gave him a reassuring pat on his back. "Are you gay?"

"Very," Richie stood back up and started walking again. "You?"

"Not strictly," Bill laughed. "Don't worry, Rich. It's all good here," there was something about Bill's voice, even with the stutter, that made Richie believe everything he said. And so, he finally felt like he belonged there. "And you don't have t-to rush into anything," Bill assured him. "Mike and I, we're taking things slow, because we have forever to get to know each other. Bev and Ben, your neighbors with the huge house, they moved in together like t-two weeks after they arrived, because it felt right for them."

"Got it," Richie replied. There was a spring in his step now that the whole 'God doesn't actually hate homos' thing had been clarified. And he was going to meet his soulmate! How cool was that? Not to be melodramatic but, when he was alive, he had been pretty fucking lonely. "What's he like?"

Bill shook his head. "I don't want to spoil anything."

Richie pouted. "Just one thing! Come on!"

"His name is Eddie and he's really nice."

Eddie. _Eddie._

Before long they were in front of his house (his soulmate's house!), white, bright, with big windows.

"I'll go in first," Bill said, "count to ten and then go in."

Richie might have counted only to eight, such was his excitement. In the background, he could hear Bill saying: "Your soulmate's here, Eddie! Deep breaths!" A voice in Richie's head whispered: _Don't fuck this up!_

Bill was facing the door, the only other guy in the room had his back to it, and so Richie couldn't see his face. He was shorter than Richie and had a full head of dark hair, he could say that much. _'Is it him? Is it him?_ ' Richie mouthed obnoxiously at Bill, who nodded back. Without thinking of it, Richie reached out to tap Eddie's shoulder, immediately feeling like they were in middle school and he was about to confess a crush.

Eddie turned.

"Oh, he's cute!" Richie screamed, bending down to wrap his arms around Eddie's waist. He smelled so nice! "I'm Richie," he said without letting go.

"Uh, hi, Richie," Eddie replied.

Something was wrong, Richie realized. Eddie wasn't returning the hug, not really, so he let go and took a step back.

"Sorry, I didn't even ask! I know some people don't love hugs... It's just- I got too excited! You're _my soulmate_!" Richie rambled.

"Don't worry. It's fine, I'm fine," Eddie looked far from it as he said it. His gaze was vacant, like he was trying to do a very complicated sum in his head while he stared at Richie. "It's very nice to meet you, really," he managed, his boyish face wrinkling into a frown. "It's- I didn't- I didn't expect you to be-"

"So tall?" Richie finished for him.

"A man," Eddie corrected, biting the inside of his cheek.

_Oh._


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you not...?" Richie let the question float away, watched Eddie's eyes widen even more, if that was at all possible.

"Gay?! No! I mean, no offense but-"

"None taken," Richie rushed to say. "The Toze is a delicacy reserved for the homos," he tried lightening up the mood without success. Eddie was still staring at his face, like he might find answers to something if he kept looking. Bill was standing there, by the looks of it, hellishly uncomfortable. "So... What now, Bill?" Richie asked, hiding his own discomfort behind a bigass grin.

"I- I don't know," he replied honestly. "Uh- H-hey, Janet?"

"Yes," she appeared in the middle of the room, smiling placidly.

"You said Richie's soulmate w-was Eddie but it seems that..." Bill gestured broadly at them both.

"I said Richie's soulmate is Eddie. This is the only available information in his file. Eddie Kaspbrak is the only Edward in the neighborhood but that doesn't account for future arrivals," she said, the edges of her smile never wavering.

"What do you mean by 'only available information'?" Richie asked.

"Both your files are corrupted," Janet explained. With one gesture, their files appeared like holograms in front of them; bits and pieces of information appeared pixelated and unreadable. It was like Janet had said, the name of Richie's soulmate was Edward followed by a blur. In Eddie's, the name of his soulmate was completely distorted as was the summer of 1989 and big chunks of their childhoods.

"What does this mean?" Bill asked, studying both projections intently.

"We don't know," Janet admitted, "possibly the interference of an eternal being."

"Can't we get like, hardcopies, something like that?" Richie ran his fingers over the light that conformed the holograms, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Sure," Janet suddenly was holding two manila folders. Richie grabbed one and found his information as it had been on the holograms, only that the pixelated blurs were now coffee stains and water damage that had made the ink bleed beyond repair.

"Well that's unhelpful," he snarked.

Eddie had fixated on the blur of the hologram where his soulmate's name should have been. "What do I-? How will I know when-?" he tried.

"We can try to recover that information," Janet said. "It will take a while, of course."

"How long?" Richie and Eddie said in unison, turning to look at each other and frown for a moment.

"Unknowable," she replied. "Between a week and three thousand years."

"Oh, goody," Richie said, melting onto the closest seat.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie managed to say before being consumed by the more pressing issue of being unable to breath.

~

The inside of Eddie's house was just as pristine as the outside; it had a disinfected smell all over. Janet had disappeared about fifteen minutes ago. Bill and Eddie were in the room next door and Richie was sitting primly in the lounge, hands between his knees, both legs jiggling restlessly; he was a lot of things but patient wasn't one of them.

"I'm here. Everything's fine, Eddie," Bill repeated in a tone that was supposed to be soothing but sounded rather desperate. Eddie's laboured breaths were the soundtrack of a mean panic attack. A pang of guilt went through Richie's body. He had done this. Well, the universe, or God, but he had played a part in it too.

He got up and knocked on the door. Bill answered.

"I'm going to leave. We can talk some other day, Big Bill," Richie tried his best at a resigned smile.

"It's p-probably for the b-best," Bill replied. "I'm sorry, man," he added in a lower voice. "I didn't know- I've never seen Eddie like this b-before."

Behind Bill, Richie could make out the silhouette of Eddie, his head between his knees, his frame shaking with every breath.

"I'm sorry," Richie said unable to keep some sadness from seeping through in his voice. "He was fine before I came here and... Just- When he calms down, let him know that it's all good, we don't even have to talk again if he doesn't want to."

Bill gave him a half smile, thankful and a little bit proud: 'You're a good guy, Rich' it seemed to say.

So Richie left. He walked home and he lied on the grass of his front lawn.

"Hey, Janet," he said to the sky.

"Hi," she appeared next to him, bowing her head a little to see his face.

"Can I have a puppy?"

"Of course!" Janet had a puppy in her hands before Richie could say 'Really?' "Where do you want it?"

"Just here s'fine."

She placed it gently on his chest. "Anything else I can help you with?"

"Nah. Thanks, Janet," Richie replied absently, already playing with the dog. She disappeared with a pop.

Having a small puppy licking his face and stomping on his stomach helped with Richie's overall ennui but it didn't cure it.

"Hi, there!" A female voice sounded from somewhere to his right.

"Are you new here?" A man's voice asked.

Richie sat up to see a redhead woman and a blue-eyed man, both extremely attractive and holding hands.

"Well, aren't you two tall glasses of water?" Richie said in his best southern accent (which still wasn't very good). They both chuckled, so it was fine.

"I'm Ben, this is Beverly," the man introduced himself. "We live next door."

"I'm Richie," he replied and eyed the big house next to his. "Nice crib."

"Ben designed it, he was an architect before," Beverly suddenly noticed the dog yapping on Richie's lap. "Oh, can I hold him?"

Richie reluctantly let go of the puppy.

"Oh, he's so cute! We have a lab but he's already grown," she explained, squealing every time the dog licked her. "What's his name?"

"I was thinking 'Steve'", Richie said, "after my first boyfriend. Real nice guy but he couldn't control his tongue. Every french kiss ended with me completely covered in spit."

Ben grimaced with disgust but Beverly cackled, ugly and sincere, and Richie loved her for it.

"Wanna join us for dinner, Rich?"

~

They went through introductions and pleasantries and easily fell into a familiarity that Richie hadn't known even with his own family.

"So, wait- You were a famous architect and you were a famous fashion designer. How come you two beautiful specimens never met on Earth?" Richie asked, waving his glass of red wine dangerously with every gesture he did.

"We should have met. It's just- uh-" Ben struggled with his words, his eyes searching for Bev's like he was asking for permission.

"My ex didn't like me traveling alone," Bev admitted with a grimace. "He didn't like me going to award ceremonies without him, either."

"He sounds like a piece of shit," Richie said flatly and Bev hummed in agreement.

Ben reached for her hand over the table and squeezed it. Richie could almost feel the residual love emanating from them both. He had had a shit day, what with all the dying and the whole soulmate fiasco but this was definitely the Good Place.


	3. Chapter 3

Richie had decided to take Steve the puppy out for a walk the following morning, try to see what else there was in town. Unfortunately, he didn't account for Steve's tiny and wobbly legs. Richie had to pause his usual stride every couple of steps as his dog caught up. Eventually, Steve got tired and Richie resolved to carry him around the neighborhood. Downtown, there was a cinema, a few diners and cafés, a small bookshop, a Chinese restaurant, an Italian restaurant, a record store... All with that same old-school charm of the soft serve ice cream place he had first seen the day before.

It was early, and so the streets were quiet. Richie sat down on a bench, Steve on his lap, his eyes closed and his face turned to the sun that came in pieces through the trees.

"Richie, right?" a soft, polite voice asked.

Richie opened his eyes, squinting, slightly dazzled by the sun and Eddie Kaspbrak's very pretty face.

"Eddie! You remembered!"

"Of course," he replied, an apologetic smile softening his features. "I'm sorry.... About yesterday," Eddie buried his hands in his pockets and only then did Richie realize that he was wearing running shorts; his face was dewy with sweat. With much effort on Richie's part he kept his eyes on Eddie's face, instead of letting them wander to his thighs and legs.

"It wasn't your fault, man," Richie said. "You took it well, all things considered," Richie gestured vaguely at himself, making Eddie chuckle shyly.

"Still," Eddie bit on his bottom lip and after a moment's hesitation he sat down next to Richie. "I lost it because I won't know who my soulmate is, not because of you," he said carefully.

Richie tried to smile. He knew the feeling of rejection but this whole soulmate situation was foreign territory.

"I understand," Richie lied. "And like I told Bill yesterday, you don't owe me shit."

"No, of course..." Eddie furrowed his brow. "I actually wanted to invite you over for dinner; we're doing a welcome party thing at Bill's..."

Steve was too busy being a puppy to realize the seriousness of the situation; he rolled on Richie's lap and started chewing on the hem of Eddie's shorts.

"Bad boy! That's Steve, he's one day old," Richie explained calmly, bringing the dog up, in front of his face to chastise him. "Steve, we don't bite Eddie's shorts, it's rude."

"Not to mention unsanitary," Eddie mumbled, clearly disgusted by the pool of spit the dog had left behind.

"That too," Richie said to the puppy and turned to Eddie. "Kids, am I right?"

It brought out another chuckle from Eddie, one that felt a little more real and, oh, Richie liked the sound of it.

"Can we forget all that soulmate shit and be friends?" Eddie asked after a pause. "You know, you seem like a nice guy... Just- Keep doing what you're doing with a lot less flirting," Eddie explained bossily, he seemed a natural at that, Richie thought with amusement. "So... Dinner, Friday at seven?"

"I'd like that, the being friends thing," Richie offered with a smile, "and dinner sounds great."

"Great!" Eddie got up to leave. "See you, then!"

"See ya, Eds," Richie took one of Steve's paws and made him wave.

"That's not my name, dumbass," Eddie threw the insult with a little slap on Richie's shoulder, like it was an endearment, albeit a platonic one. This "being friends thing" was going to be hard, Richie could tell already.

~

Bill's place was right in the middle of everything, like everyone else's houses had been planned to orbit it, making it the perfect spot for them to meet up. Richie arrived fashionably late, a bottle of wine in his hand.

"Rich! Come in, come in!" Bill dragged him inside the second he opened the door, clapping on his back enthusiastically. "Our guest of honor!" Bill led Richie around the room, introducing him to the small group. Stan and Patty, Bill's next door neighbors, were a good-looking couple, in a sexy librarian sort of way; a little stern, a little cheeky. Mike (or my-Mike, as Bill called him, whether it was because of his stutter or not was unclear) had a kilowatt smile and a soothing voice, and he immediately enveloped Richie in the tightest bear hug. "Welcome, buddy," he said and he meant it. Ben and Bev were there too. Eddie waved from the other side of the room, and Richie's stomach jumped a little at the sight of him, terribly dressed and picking out nuts from his salad.

~

After dinner, a few drinks in, their tongues loose and their laughter easy, Mike yelled: "Let's play truth or dare!"

"What are we, twelve?" Richie hollered, on reflex almost, before he remembered that his biggest secret was common knowledge here, he had nothing to hide.

"Are you scared, Richie?" Bev taunted him, downing her tequila in one swig.

"You know what? No," Richie cackled with relief; he refilled his shot glass and hers, spilling some of it on Bill's table. "I'm not afraid of anything!"

"No?! What about commitment, rejection, love?" Stan asked immediately, throwing his arm around the back of Patty's chair; she gave him a little smack to the chest, like she was reminding him to play nice. It turned out that one beer was all it took to make Stan the perfect foil for Richie's stupid antics.

"You didn't say 'Truth or Dare', Stanislav," Richie rushed to reply, pointing at him with a garlic bread stick. "But I'll allow it this time. I was afraid of coming out, which kept all those pretty things out of the question for me," he reached across the table for the onion dip and went on talking. "Now? I'm not afraid of shit."

Stan raised his eyebrows. "Of course you aren't," he mumbled snidely.

"I heavd vat!" Richie said, his mouth full.

"Okay, my turn!" Mike said. "Bev, truth or dare?"

"Dare, Mikey."

"Okay, uh-" he hesitated for a moment but Bill leaned to whisper in his ear, making Mike giggle. "Kiss Richie."

Everyone went into a chorus of exaggerated _Oh no_ s that only became louder when Richie took yet another bite of his garlic-bread-onion-dip mix.

"Real classy, boys," Bev said without bite, turning to Richie. "Any chance that you've got a mint lying around, honey?"

"Bev, my stage name was literally Trashmouth. And, in my defense, I wasn't planning on kissing anyone tonight," Richie shrugged. "I can ask Janet for one, though."

"No need to bother her," Eddie interrupted, reaching between them to offer a pack of sugar-free, super minty gums.

"Eds! You're full of surprises!" Richie accepted it with a big smile. "Of course a cutie such as yourself would carry these around in the Good Place," he said without thinking twice about it, the bubbliness of alcohol making him forget his resolution to remain in the land of strictly platonic and not flirt.

Eddie simply rolled his eyes at him but there was a hint of a smile when he said: "Chewing gum periodically is good for your teeth, dumbass."

"Oh, sorry, I thought one of the perks of being dead was that I no longer had to worry about that shit," Richie slapped his hand to his forehead, mocking Eddie.

"Say 'thank you' and be done with it, asshole," Eddie replied, getting winded.

Richie inhaled, prepping for more banter, but Bev grabbed his arm and made him turn to her.

"Can we just get this over with, Rich?" she pleaded.

"Fine," Richie said, chewing obnoxiously loud and fast, as if that would intensify the effect of the gum. After a little while, he discarded the gum into a napkin and turned to Bev. "Please don't fall in love with me," he said in a solemn voice and Bev punched his arm immediately. "Ow! Unnecessary!"

"I think it was necessary," Ben chimed in.

"Fair enough," Richie conceded and waited, eyes closed, for Bev to kiss him. After scrunching her nose towards the rest of the party in a "look what you made me do" way, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and dragged him down for a smooch. They were definitely going for humor, smashing their faces in that faux passionate way of old timey movies, their lips closed but moving this way and that, humming loudly. Eddie found himself staring intently at the tender way Richie held Bev's face and waist despite it all being a joke, the way his fingers curled around her neck, the little crease that formed between his brows as he sighed contentedly... Eddie then gulped and downed a shot of tequila that wasn't his.

~

Life in the Good Place was nice, Richie decided, if a little bit lonely. It was the soulmate thing, mainly. Sometimes it felt like he was the new kid at school: everybody had been assigned a lab partner and he had been left to fend for himself. Bill kept telling him to be patient, which, of course, was easy to say when he had Mike's arm draped over his shoulders. Though really, in the grand scheme of things, he had been waiting for his soulmate not long at all (a Bearimy and a half, according to Janet, whatever the hell that meant). Still, it stung a little when Ben and Bev had him over, seeing the secret language they shared, the looks, the saccharine domesticity they had fallen into. He had wanted that for himself all his life, though he'd never admit it, and, unlike hunger or pain, that want didn't disappear when he died.

Richie would never complain, though. Whenever they all got together, the neighbors, he had a grasp of something different altogether, something he had needed all his life: a family. The thought had occurred to him, that maybe this was all he'd get: being the silly gay uncle in a weird Franken-family... And that it might be enough.

Bill, Mike and Bev were great company for a drunken night out; game for any crazy idea Richie came up with, keeping up easily as he downed shot after shot, laughing and joking and partying. Ben and Stan were just so fucking nice to be around: calm and kind, full of interesting facts and wise beyond their years, great movie-going companions, their dry humor keeping Richie on his toes all the time. Patty cared for him like family, giving him the best hugs, like he was her wild brother-in-law that sometimes dropped in for dinner and antagonized Stan for her amusement. Then, of course, there was Eddie... Eddie, Eddie, Eddie... Eddie was good at all those things: he could drink and dance and karaoke, he was funny and engaging and smart, he was punctual and nice to look at and pathologically angry. Plus, he sometimes got Richie ice cream when they got talking during their morning run-slash-walk. Bottom line, Richie was super in love with Eddie, despite all of his efforts.

He was thinking of this as he sat on the porch of his house, smoking a cigarette late one evening, Steve asleep at his feet. Bev caught his eye from her kitchen window and stuck her tongue out to him. She looked like she bellowed something to Ben and then got out to join him; their talks after hours were such a common occurrence now that Richie had lit a cigarette for her while she did so. She sat next to him and nudged his sides playfully.

"Penny for your thoughts, Rich," she exhaled a cloud of smoke and smiled, wild and catlike, in his direction.

"Bev, is there such a thing as unrequited love in the Good Place?"

"Oh, no!" Bev groaned. "Eddie? Still? You said it was just a teeny-tiny crush, Rich."

"I know what I said," he replied flatly, sounding disappointed in himself. "What are the fucking odds of me finding the perfect guy in heaven and him being straight?"

Bev scooted closer to him and put her head on his shoulder. "Dunno. You'd have to ask Ben, he's the one that's _good with numbers_ ," she added in a husky voice.

Richie chuckled a little. "It just feels like some cosmic joke, you know?"

Ben was now in the kitchen, cleaning up, he waved at them and Richie did a half-hearted salute.

"It wasn't always this easy, you know," Bev said all of a sudden, her hand squeezing Richie's. "When I first got here and I saw Ben, I knew, right away, that we were meant to be something to each other but- I don't know- We were incomplete somehow. I had to work through some shit and he had his own issues too… He felt like I would leave him any minute, find someone better..."

Richie had a look at Ben, with his broad shoulders, his perfect hair and his ocean blue eyes. "Really?" he mumbled.

"Yeah. That's why we moved in together so soon. It was my big gesture, my telling him 'I'm in this for the long run'".

Richie nodded. "You mean that not everything is _good_ in the Good Place right away?"

"Something like that," Bev smiled.

They stayed in silence for a while, just smoking and watching Ben do the dishes.

"Bev?"

"Hmm?"

"How'd you die?" Richie had never asked before.

"I drowned," she replied, her tone almost like she was surprised of the fact itself.

"Yikes."

"Yeah. I don't remember the specifics," she added softly, "but it wasn't my ex in the bathtub, I asked Janet."

Richie moved to give her a stare. "Was that high on the list?!" he asked, outraged.

"I mean, it was way more likely than some serial killer doing it," she said lightly. Richie squeezed her hand. "He hit me," she explained.

"Oh, I'll haunt his useless ass!" Richie screamed dramatically, making Bev let out a chuckle, faint and wet but real. "Where does he live?"

"I don't know," Bev shrugged. "When I asked Janet about how I died, that was the last time I cared about him." Bev sighed and wiped the one tear that had escaped her eyes. "It's water under the bridge, Rich. Death did us part and I never have to see him again," she said, determined, strong. "I'm home," she added, gazing in Ben's direction and rubbing her thumb over Richie's hand.


	4. Chapter 4

After that conversation with Bev, Richie realized, slowly and then all at once, the levels of fuckery each of the neighbors had gone through or was going through.

Patty and Stan, at first glance the textbook definition of a perfect couple, sometimes felt strained in their interactions. One time, jokingly, Richie suggested he'd kidnap Stan for a boy's night out and then turn that into a month long vacation for Patty; she hadn't found it funny in the slightest and locked her jaw into a menacing smile. Stan too was adamant on being punctual, never keeping Patty waiting, like she'd think he'd died on her or something...

Eddie, of course, had all his cleanliness and health concerns... Though Richie believed his actual hang up had something to do with his mother or his wife or both.

Bill had a whole thing with his baby brother, Georgie. Richie had actually seen him a couple of times, playing with Bill, who had magically turned back into a ten or eleven year old kid - Georgie wouldn't recognize him otherwise. As an adult, Bill would talk to Georgie, pretend to be a distant uncle, ask him about the neighborhood he lived in and if he was happy... He'd hug the boy tightly and walk him back to the train.

In that sense, Mike's hijinks were the most fun to deal with by far. He, apparently, hadn't travelled at all when he was alive; and not because he didn't want to, something had kept him chained to his hometown. In the afterlife, he made a point of going everywhere he'd wanted to. Not even Bill, bless his heart, was able to keep up with Mike. So Richie sometimes tagged along.

Today, they were in the Grand Canyon, taking touristy photos, enjoying the change in weather - warm but drier than the Good Place.

"Hey, Trashmouth," Mike called him and Richie hummed absently, staring at a lizard that was resting on a rock. "I gotta tell you something. It's supposed to be a secret but... It's about your soulmate."

Richie turned around quickly, his eyes wide. "Spit it out, Mycicle!"

"You know how Janet's been busy with research about you and Eddie's files and how Bill has been welcoming the new arrivals in her place?"

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow, a guy's coming, his name is Edward Fernandez.”

“Eddie,” Richie sighed.

“Exactly,” Mike’s smile was wide and so contagious. “Bill didn’t want me to tell you, he wanted to check first with Janet and all that but I think you should be ready to meet him.”

~

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Richie mumbled to his half naked self as he threw every item of clothing he owned onto his bed.

“Everything okay?” Eddie had let himself into Richie’s house, carrying Steve around, he was now staring at Richie from the door way to his bedroom.

“What? Oh, yeah!” Richie lied absently, his gaze turning from the pile of clothes to Eddie to Steve licking Eddie’s arm. “Seems Steve likes you, Eds.”

“He’s always liked me, asshole. I wasn’t a fan at first, I’ll admit it,” Eddie sat on the edge of the bed, the only bit not covered in clothes, his voice mockingly serious. “But we’ve talked about our differences.”

“Good. Good,” Richie bit the inside of his cheek, his attention still divided in such a way he didn’t notice Eddie looking at his bare shoulders with curiosity and something else…

“Rich. Hey! Rich!” Eddie snapped his fingers until he turned. “What the fuck’s wrong with you today? You didn’t walk Steve to the park and you look like you’re getting an aneurism just from choosing what to wear.”

“Ah! That’s because I am,” Richie snickered. “Okay, so, apparently, an Edward, let’s call him Other Eddie, is coming in today…” he waved his hands as if to encourage Eddie to join the dots.

“Your soulmate!” Eddie bellowed so loud Steve jumped off his lap, offended. “Shit! He’s coming in today?”

“Bill’s not sure he’s my soulmate but Janet’s not coming back for a couple days… Look, I know this makes me look impatient and overzealous and uncool but-“

“I think it makes you look cute, Rich,” Eddie said and immediately regretted it, shaking his head and talking again before Richie could say anything back. “So you don’t know what to wear? That’s the issue?”

“Everything I own makes me look like I own a comic book store in Hawaii or that I share a wardrobe with an extremely tall toddler,” Richie rubbed his eyes.

“I thought that was you thing?”

“Fuck you! _It is_ but fuck you,” Richie sighed.

“Okay,” Eddie turned to the pile and started browsing, “I’ll help.”

“Thanks, Eddieee!” Richie grabbed his head and kissed the top of it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie dismissed it but he felt something burn inside his chest.

~

Eddie knocked on Richie's door. He had been feeling restless all afternoon and he certainly felt lame, going to check in on Richie after meeting his soulmate, like there would be a gossip session afterwards or something. They were in their forties, for chrissakes! Also, there was the matter of him not giving a fuck about Other Eddie and whatever they'd done or said... He just wanted to be with Richie, in some elemental, my-stomach-won't-stop-churning way.

"It's open!" Richie shouted. There was always music playing at Richie's and so Eddie didn't really notice until he opened the door and got hit by the wall of sound, more melancholy and less wild than usual.

"Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me, because you don't knooow what it means to meeeee!"

Richie was lying on the carpet, wailing.

"Queen, huh?" Eddie sat down a couple of feet away from him, legs crossed and fingers carding through the carpet.

"That's right, Spaghetti Man," Richie tried to say lightly but really only managed to sound bitter. "I've reached the depths of sorrow."

"Shit, man," Eddie pursed his lips. "Was he that bad?"

Richie turned to look at him for the first time since he'd arrived. Behind his glasses, Richie's eyes lit up slightly at the sight of Eddie.

"Nah," he scrunched up his face in concentration. "He was fine. Other Eddie is a perfectly nice man. Hell, if we'd met back on Earth we might have dated for a couple of months before calling it quits."

"And?"

"Just- It doesn't feel- Uh-" Richie struggled with his words and Eddie giggled despite himself. "Don't laugh, Eds!"

"Sorry!" Eddie put his hands up in surrender. "Sometimes it's hard to believe you talked for a living, is all," he said with a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, asshole," Richie smiled fondly and then turned to the ceiling, his hands on his belly. "You know how Bev sometimes looks like she'll literally murder anyone that hurt Ben? And how it feels like they made Stan and Patty in a set of two, because they're so- perfectly in sync? How Bill and Mike take care of each other even if they are super cutesy and disgusting about it?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I didn't feel that," Richie sighed and Eddie sighed too; the back of his mouth was numb with something... Relief? Maybe, he didn't want to see Richie hurt.

"You guys just need some time-" Eddie started.

Richie shook his head. "He said the same thing. Really, it's only a matter of waiting for Janet to confirm it- that he's not my soulmate," it looked like Richie was going to add something but he got distracted by the change in song from Love of my Life to Somebody to Love. _Each morning I get up I die a little, can barely stand on my feet, take a look in the mirror and cry, Lord, whatcha doing to me?_

"Freddie knew," Richie added after a pause. "He knew what it felt like to be fucking lonely and a little gay, and in love with everyone but not enough to make it count."

Eddie didn't know what to say, he pursed his lips and rubbed his wrists nervously.

"Rich?"

"Hmm?" he had closed his eyes, humming the melody of the song absently.

"How did you know that you are-?" Eddie asked softly.

"That I like guys?" Richie opened his eyes for confirmation and Eddie nodded sheepishly, feeling suddenly much younger than he was. Richie smiled at him and tapped the space right beside him on the carpet. Eddie could have just scooted there but he lied on his side, parallel to Richie, staring at his profile. "T'was the spring of 1987..." he began in his documentary narrator voice.

Eddie groaned. "I was being serious."

"I know," Richie bit back a grin. "For real though," he took a deep breath and turned back to the ceiling, like he was seeing it all playing out in a projection. "I became aware of it when I was in middle school but looking back on it, I suppose it started way earlier. I would be drawn to some guy and I would tell myself that I was looking up to them, as a role model or some shit. I thought I wanted to be Robert Sean Leonard for the longest time when actually I just wanted to kiss him."

"Dead Poets Society?" Eddie asked.

"You know it, baby!" Richie laughed. "I've always been a sucker for a tragic ending," he pursed his lips. "My first crush was a friend from elementary school- I'm shit at remembering names but he was this all-american, blue-eyed, nice-ass boy. Everybody was a little bit in love with him. I followed him around everywhere like a duckling," he paused, trying to remember something, anything...

"Awww, Baby Richie," Eddie said mockingly.

"I looked like a toad in a wig, Eds," they both cackled and something about the sound of Eddie's laugh brought back another memory. "Then there was this other boy, I'd call him my gay awakening if it didn't sound so gross," Richie scrunched his nose a bit and scratched his stubble, lost in memory. "I bought him ice cream, I snuck out to see him, I carved our initials around the town, the works... I did literally everything but tell him. He was a brown-eyed, fussy, little thing. Cute as fuck. You remind me of him, sometimes," he confessed, turning to look at Eddie, at his wide eyes and the freckles on his nose.

"How so?" Eddie whispered.

Richie made a show of staring intently at Eddie, his eyelashes, the line between his eyebrows, the way his lips fluttered with every breath he took...

"You're both annoying as fuck," Richie deadpanned.

"Fuck you!" Eddie said laughing, throwing his hand aimlessly to smack him; Richie caught his wrist with nimble fingers. A silence fell in the space between them, spiky, slippery.

Before he could think, Richie lurched forward and kissed Eddie. There was a lost memory there too, Richie knew, in the clean smell of Eddie's skin, in the way his insides did somersaults and asked for more. He didn't have time to figure it out, his brain caught up and every instinct was swallowed by fear. Slowly, he let go of Eddie's wrist. It was deafening, the sound their lips made when they parted.

"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot, Eds. I- I fucked up," Richie mumbled, covering his face with both hands. Please don't hate me, he wanted to scream.

Eddie's hands covered his, trying to peel them from his face. For how soft his lips were, Eddie had very dry palms... Maybe from washing them too often.

"Rich," so soft, the voice someone would use to lure an injured animal out. "Richie."

He melted into his touch, let him move his hands away: Eddie had not withdrawn from him, his head was tipped with curiosity, his eyes were tender and open.

Eddie raised his hand and cupped Richie's face, his thumb brushing over Richie's lower lip. They were so close Richie could feel Eddie's breath on his own lips, his exhale as he chuckled nervously. Eddie kissed him back, fiercely, grabbing Richie's shirt and dragging him closer. And, fuck, Richie wanted him before, but now he needed him like air; he was a drowning man and only Eddie could save him, his touch, his smell, the weight of his leg flung over his thigh. Eddie.

"Did you kiss him?" Eddie asked, their foreheads still touching, his voice husky.

"I had to be sure, Eds," it sounded like Richie was already apologizing, leaving messy pecks down the side of Eddie's neck.

"I'm not judging," he chuckled and it was unclear if Richie's stubble had tickled him or if he was just amused at the overall situation. "No, I just wanted to know..." one of Eddie's hands carded through Richie's hair and curled on the back of his neck, prompting Richie to look up at him. "Did it feel like this?"

Richie knew what he was asking. In the Good Place, they existed in varying degrees of contentment, nothing very bad ever happened, and so everything was okay at worst. Kissing Eddie wasn't okay; it was heavenly.

Richie shook his head and stole another kiss from Eddie. "Nothing feels like this, Eds."

"Nothing?" Eddie's eyes widened, a mischievous spark in them; he ran his hands down the sides of Richie's ribs, tickling. "Not partying with the Fitzgeralds? Not racing a Ferrari in Tuscany?” Richie had made himself a reputation as a hedonist, even by the Good Place standards.

“Nothing”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to end this in 5 chapters but it'll have to be 6; this one was big enough and ready to go. It's my quarantine gift for y'all.  
> (Rating change just to be safe.)

Somehow, they ended up making out over the mess of clothes on Richie's bed. The house was silent: no banter for the first time since they'd met; their limbs were intertwined. They kissed slowly, like teenagers during summer would, no rush to go anywhere. Richie knew that time was funny in the Good Place, the space between sunrise and sunset could stretch without them noticing -that was how he'd accidentally spent twelve days in Budapest with Mike that one time. And holding Eddie in his arms? A year could go by without him realizing.

But fuck, there was that voice, that awful voice in his head that had told Richie he wasn't good enough almost every day since childhood. It made him restless, even now.

"Eds," he mumbled in between kisses, "are you-? Is this-?"

"Hmm?" Eddie replied absently, running his hands under Richie's shirt, kissing his collarbone, his jaw. He seemed to be in a kind of trance, blind with desire and curiosity. Richie had never seen him like that, so... Carefree?

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," Richie withdrew from Eddie but only an inch, his hands were still resting on the small of Eddie's back. Eddie gave him an annoyed look. "We can keep on kissing in a minute just- You said you were straight..."

Eddie laughed, his eyes crinkling beautifully. "I didn't think I was being subtle but you can feel my hard on on your hip, right?"

"I do," Richie closed his eyes, half embarrassed, half euphoric. "I didn't want to assume..."

"I'll be blunt, then," Eddie said. "I appreciate taking things slow, and I want days like that, just kissing; I missed out on that kind of thing while I was on Earth. But I want you, Rich," he rearranged on the mattress so that he was holding both cheeks of Richie's ass, pulling him closer, writhing against him. "More than I've wanted anyone," he added huskily against Richie's neck and leaving a kiss there.

Richie shivered. He wanted this. He wanted Eddie. But the voice wouldn't shut the fuck up.

"More than your wife?" Richie asked.

"No contest. The most exciting thing we did was scream at each other, our marriage was a fucking nightmare."

The voice wasn't quite silent yet but Eddie was doing a phenomenal job of contradicting it undoing every button and buckle his fingers could find. He seemed to be getting a weird satisfaction from getting him out of his carefully chosen shirt and pants, to rip off the ironed and starched facade Richie had put on for Other Eddie. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"What if you were, you know, just dead down there?" Richie said, almost comically. "Maybe this is just the Good Place making you feel things."

Eddie stopped altogether for just a second to scowl at Richie and call him: "Asshole."

"So you're sure?"

"Very sure," Eddie replied.

"Okay. Good," Richie smiled wide and kissed him, playing with his hair and very aware of every inch of skin that touched Eddie, feeling like it was a balm healing him from the outside in.

"What about you? Are you going to stop waiting for your soulmate and settle with this Eddie?" Eddie teased as he helped him out of his jeans.

"Settle," Richie mumbled, scrunching his face like it was the dirtiest word he had ever said. "Settle," he repeated, rolling them on the bed so that he'd be pinning Eddie down by the wrists. Richie kissed Eddie, thoroughly, trying to fit months that felt like decades of pining in that one kiss. "I was sold the moment I saw you, Eds," he reminded gently. "You're my friend and I love you," he said, moving down Eddie's body, nibbling on the skin on his ribs and his hip, kissing his collarbone and his navel, getting rid of Eddie's briefs in one desperate motion. "That's much more than enough."

Eddie gasped and interlaced his fingers in Richie's hair, waiting for him to look up. "Hey, I love you too, Rich," Eddie said breathily.

"Are you saying that just to get a blowjob or- ?" Richie quipped.

Eddie chuckled despite himself. "Richard, I swear to God-" he was interrupted by Richie's mouth on him, moving back and forth, making him roll his eyes and tighten his grip on Richie's hair. "Oh, fuck me!"

Richie widened his eyes, then let him go with a pop to say: "Gladly, Eds." Richie felt giddy, like he had eaten too much sugar, his fingers tingling as he ran them over Eddie's sides, looking up, his glasses already foggy. "How do you want it?"

Eddie grabbed the collar of Richie's undershirt, pulling until their foreheads and noses were touching again, he opened his legs, making room for Richie to settle. "Like this," Eddie said against his lips, "I want to see you."

"Jesus Christ, Eds!" Richie laughed nervously, grinding against Eddie, kissing his temple sloppily. "I'm gonna come in my boxers and you haven't even touched me."

"Well, take them off!" Eddie ordered, sitting up. "Give a minute, I'll catch up with you."

Richie obeyed, getting rid of his t-shirt and boxers quickly. He busied himself throwing the clothes to the side, freeing some space for them to lie. He didn't mean to stare, honestly, but he couldn't help it when he saw Eddie, reclining on the headboard, stretching himself out, moaning softly, frowning in concentration. Fuck. This was _most definitely_ the Good Place.

Eddie opened his eyes. "What's up with your face?"

Richie realized his mouth was hanging open; he shook his head like he was a cartoon, making Eddie giggle.

"I'm only human, Eds."

"Come here, dumbass," Eddie pulled him closer and kissed him hard. "Have you seen yourself?" Eddie took him in, the sharp angle of his jaw, the hair on his chest, his long fingers. He ran his palms from Richie's arms to his shoulder blades, anchoring himself when Richie first thrust inside him. There, encased in Richie's arms he had a sense of home -though not his mother's house- somewhere sunnier, safer... Some place that smelled like Richie did, like grass and salted caramel and sun dried clothes.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, darling," Richie replied, smiling dumbly even then, sweaty and desperate, his voice hoarse as he tried to keep a rhythm. "Fuck!" he left messy kisses wherever he could: Eddie's collarbone or his jaw or the corner of his lips. "But I'll take your word for it."

"Would it kill you- Ah!" Eddie moaned and then bit on the muscle that joined Richie's neck with his shoulder to stop himself from screaming. "Would it kill you to not have the last word?" he managed to say, panting. He arched his body to meet Richie's, trapping him with arms and legs; he was so close, they both were.

Richie groaned, his hips slamming quicker and harder, Eddie let out an unintelligible string of curses and then... Richie collapsed like a sigh right beside Eddie. "Yes," Richie mumbled, after a while. "It would kill me to not have the last word. But we're already dead so..."

"Idiot," Eddie said lovingly, removing Richie's glasses carefully and then carding his fingers through Richie's hair until they both fell asleep.

~

They woke up slowly, partly because of the sun coming through the curtains and partly because Steve the puppy had climbed on the bed, settling in the nook created by Richie's arm over Eddie's chest, and was licking both. Eddie hummed contentedly, the weight of Richie on him better than any weighted blanket he had tried.

"Mornin'," Richie mumbled against Eddie's skin.

"Morning," Eddie replied.

Richie looked up, arched his neck and kissed Eddie, just a peck, a _'Hey, honey, how are you?'_ , warm and soft. He withdrew after a second. "Shit, I forgot! Morning breath," Richie scrunched his face like he had committed the worst sin.

"Gross," Eddie said and meant it, but still kissed Richie again, deeper, hungrier. Whatever craziness had possessed him to fall asleep without showering the night before was still at work, his need for Richie greater than any other thought or anxiety. He felt dizzy, slap happy, invincible. "You really should brush your teeth," he said between kisses.

"I really should," Richie agreed.

Steve jumped down from the bed, some noise from outside the house sounding more interesting than their make out session.

"Rich! Are you decent?" Mike's voice echoed from the hall.

"Shit," Richie stopped kissing Eddie, looking unspeakably sorry to let go and roll over, away from him. Mike did this often, he would just waltz into Richie's and know he was alone and bored and would go with him wherever. "Don't come in, my dick's out!" he yelled.

Beside him, Eddie was trying his best not to burst out laughing. Grabbing Richie's wrist under the covers, Eddie whispered: "They're gonna find out eventually."

 _Eventually_. There was something about the word that sounded like 'we have forever ahead of us'. Richie kissed him one last time before yelling: "Okay, dick's covered, you can come in, Mikey."

Mike entered the room, his gaze down, absorbed in a book, something that looked like a 1980s backpacker's guide to Europe.

"So, Bill and I got talking last night and we're planning a Winter Wonderland Tour for the eight of us. You know, Christmas markets in Germany, Christmas Eve in Paris, New Year's in London," he said flipping between the pages of the book. "Ben wants to go skiing in Switzerland. Everyone's in so far. I couldn't find Eddie at his place but-"

"It sounds great, Mike, count me in," Eddie interrupted smiling.

"Me too," Richie said, sharing a conspiratorial look with Eddie.

Mike looked up, his gaze going from Eddie to Richie to the tangled sheets and to Eddie again. "Holy- ! Wh-?!"

"Uh, it is what it looks like," Richie said, enjoying the moment immensely. "Please, don't be weird about it, will you, Michael? We're all grown-ups here," he added in an affected British accent.

"I- I'll- Okay," Mike said after a while, nodding and frowning simultaneously. "I'll see myself out."

As Mike closed the door, they burst into cackles that echoed all over the house.

~

"Rich? We probably should be getting ready to go to Bill's," Eddie leaned on the doorframe of the bathroom. His hair was still damp from the shower he had taken twenty minutes ago; he had grabbed one of Richie's smaller shirts, the shoulder seams hitting near his bicep, the rest of the fabric half-heartedly tucked inside his jeans. "Are you done soaking in your own juices?" he asked haughtily.

"Listen, dickswab, I'm middle-aged, I'm sore, I'm allowed to take a fucking bath!" Richie argued sleepily from the bathtub. "I fucked a spectacular twink last night and he insists on going to a weekly neighbor dinner thing instead of doing a reprise, so..."

"We can fuck after dinner, what the hell are you talking about?" Eddie replied, his voice high.

"I know, I know," Richie scrunched his face. "It's just that I want you all for myself for like a month. _Then_ I can share."

Eddie snorted. "You sound like a spoiled brat, you know that, right?" He sat down on the edge of the bathtub, his fingers tracing Richie's eyebrows carefully, Richie's were eyes unfocused and soft without his glasses.

"I just need to wash my hair," Richie mumbled, "I'll be quick about it, I promise."

Eddie reached across for the bottle of shampoo. "You're always late anyway," he sassed. "Let me." Eddie started washing Richie's hair, massaging gently, cocking his head in concentration. "Eyes closed," he ordered.

Richie obliged, feeling a little foam falling from his scalp down his forehead. At this point, Eddie was making spikes with his hair, sticking it from the sides, and running his fingers through it for the hell of it. It felt tender, intimate, maybe more than kissing and fucking like they had the night before. It felt like something he had done in his head at least once before.

Richie went underwater to rinse the shampoo off, he rose and found Eddie staring.

"Eds..." Richie started. "How long- ?"

He didn't know how to end the question. How long had he liked him? No, that sounded like they were twelve. How long had he wanted a piece of his dick? A little crass. Eddie seemed to understand what he was asking because after a moment's thought he replied:

"Shit, I think it was that first night at Bill's," he let out a sigh of mortification. "My dick twitched when I saw you kissing Bev."

"Wait, what?" Richie snorted.

"It was the way you held her. I thought: 'Shit, I want someone to hold me like that,'" Eddie explained. "Then I got blind drunk, tried to forget about it-"

"You avoided me for a week!"

"Yeah, that too," Eddie shrugged.

Richie cupped his face, his hands lukewarm and pruney from the bath, and pulled him close, until their foreheads were touching. "I had no idea-" he exhaled, their lips so close they were brushing with every word he said. "I thought I was the only one that- I wish I knew," he said finally.

Eddie shook his head slowly. "It's fine. You know now," he angled his head and kissed Richie, feeling like he was melting with the warmth of the steam and Richie's hands on his neck, tugging him down. "We both know well enough now."

~

They made it to Bill's, spectacularly late; everyone was fighting over the last dumpling. A small silence set in when they got into the dining room and everyone stared at their damp hair, their dumb smiles, and their interlocked fingers.

"I told you Mike wasn't lying!" Stan said to Ben triumphantly, reaching for the dumpling and dipping it in soy sauce.

"Of course I wasn't," Mike shrugged. "He's even wearing Richie's clothes."

"Hallelujah!" Bill cheered.

Eddie hid his red face behind Richie's left shoulder while Bev clapped his right, whooping.

"I saved you two some spring rolls," Patty said softly when the frenzy died down.

"Oh, bless you," Richie sighed when they finally sat down.

"I'm happy for you," she said, so quiet only Richie could hear, she kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair.

~

"Wait, you watched my stand-up?"

Richie and Eddie were sitting near the edge of a pond in the park; it was a small, quiet spot. Steve was napping a few feet away and they were each finishing a double cone of vanilla ice cream.

"I did. I watched every Netflix special," Eddie replied. "It was dog shit, Rich."

Richie snorted. "See, that's how I know you like me for me," he threw an arm around Eddie's shoulders; it felt so natural, so right. He added in a whisper: "Did it make you horny?"

"No," Eddie rolled his eyes but leaned into Richie's side. He took a couple of licks off his ice cream, thinking. "It made me sad."

"Sad? Why?"

"It's hard to explain... It's like I knew you were funnier on your own. Wasted potential and all that," said Eddie. Richie was drawing patterns on Eddie's shoulder absentmindedly. "It's weird; when I first saw you on TV, it felt like I recognized you. Maybe that's what the soulmate thing is about."

"Maybe," Richie hummed. "I recognized you too, my first day here."

Eddie turned up to him. "You fucking softie," he mocked and then kissed him.

~

"What's this one from?" Eddie asked, his lips tracing the outline of a scar on the inside of Richie's forearm.

It was late morning in the idyllic bed and breakfast Mike had booked. They had been snowed in, so suddenly, so aggressively, that Eddie thought it had more to do with the magic of the Good Place and the fact that Ben and Beverly had gotten engaged the night before than with any actual weather abnormalities. He, for one, was thankful to be straddling Richie's hips and kissing Richie's neck instead of sightseeing in Strasbourg.

"That's from the one time I tried to surf when I first moved to LA," Richie practically purred when Eddie bit softly on his flesh. "A dumb mistake. I've never been athletic."

"I get that," Eddie said.

"I find that hard to believe, Mister Daily-morning-run," Richie traced the muscle lines of Eddie's thighs.

"I had asthma when I was a kid," Eddie shrugged.

"And then you just got cured? Sounds fake but okay," Richie raised his eyebrows and Eddie bit on his hand, a little harder. "Ow! Bastard!" Eddie chuckled and rolled his hips, teasing. "Now you show me one scar," Richie demanded.

"I've only got the one," Eddie pointed at a line on his palm. "Don't remember how I got it, actually."

"Hey! Twinsies!" Richie showed him a matching scar on his hand. "This soulmate shit is next level, dude," he added in a surfer voice.

Eddie scrunched his face in disgust. "I can't believe you're doing that voice right now. You're _literally_ inside me."

"What? That doesn't get you going?" Richie smiled dumbly.

"Surprisingly, no."

Richie sat up. "What gets you going, Eds?" his fingers ran down Eddie's spine, tracing a question mark of sorts, his voice earnest.

"You," Eddie replied simply.

"That's nice of you to say, love, but I was hoping for something a little more specific.”

"Uh," Eddie bit his cheek. "Your voice, I guess..." Richie arched an eyebrow. "I don't mean dirty talk _necessarily_... Just, you know, when you talk me through it."

"Noted," Richie said, his voice an octave lower and his smile catlike.

"Don't look so smug, dipshit," Eddie dragged him by the neck for a kiss. "What about you?"

"Jeez. Honestly? I like it when you're bossy," he confessed.

Eddie cocked his head. "Interesting."

"We should do a list of kinky shit and go through it," Richie proposed, his lips going from Eddie's jaw to his ear, whispering, nibbling.

"I'd like that," Eddie replied smiling.

~

"Aren't you glad we're both death?" Richie asked.

"I'm fucking glad I never went skiing when I was alive, if that's what you're asking," Eddie replied, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

Skiing in Switzerland hadn't been as smooth as Ben had promised and so strolling through the Christmas market in Nurnberg was a welcome change of rhythm. They had lost the other six friends in between the crowd but they would find them, later.

Richie took a bite out of a fried, sugary dessert he had gotten for the two of them; its name foreign, guttural, and easily forgettable. "I meant like being here and eating this and not giving a shit."

Eddie was still cautious, most of the time, taking small bites, doing everything in moderation but it was more out of habit than fear. He had been so scared of dying that he hadn't thought about how he would feel when it happened.

"I'm more glad to be with you," Eddie said after a pause. "Might have had a chance at happiness back on Earth if I'd met you and those six other losers before..."

"Ha! Losers!" Richie seemed to love the nickname. "Oh, if I had known you, Eddie baby! You would have turned my life upside down and I would have enjoyed every second!"

He could almost picture the soundbites and clickbaity headlines. _'Funny Man Richard Tozier Gets Cozy with Roommate'_ , _'Trashmouth Tozier Casually Comes Out During Interview in The Graham Norton Show'_ , _'"I'm putting a ring on it -and by it I mean my boyfriend's dick," revealed Richie Tozier in raunchy interview.'_

Eddie smirked, looking pleased with himself, and reached for Richie's hand to intertwine their fingers.

"Your hands are frozen!" Eddie hissed.

"It's the curse of us who are taller than a fucking hobbit, Eds," Richie flexed his fingers, pale in the winter cold.

Eddie rolled his eyes and stopped their stroll, stood in front of him and grabbed Richie's hand, pressing his palms together to warm it.

"Gimme," Eddie demanded Richie's other hand.

"You're so demanding," Richie wasn't even complaining, it was more of a flirtation at this point.

Eddie covered Richie's hands with his and brought them to his mouth, making a cave of sorts, warming them with his breath.

Richie had a number of things he could say lined up and ready to go, some joke about how Eddie was definitely a pressure cooker in a coat, or a tired pick up line about how Eddie made him so hot he melted... He didn't say any of those things, instead he stared and waited, saw Eddie put his palms on his face to check if they were warm enough.

"What?" Eddie asked.

"Nothing," Richie replied and kissed him hard, there in the middle of the street, because he wanted to and because he could, because Eddie's lips tasted better than mulled wine, and, perhaps most importantly, because he loved him.

~

The Losers' Winter Wonderland Tour was a huge success; they returned triumphant to the neighborhood with spring in their step.

"Welcome back! Join us tomorrow for movie night!" read a poster in big, bold letters, hung over the cinema entrance.

"Maybe it'll be that John Hughes marathon we've been talking about," Ben mused, his arm around Bev's waist, always the romantic.

"I'm h-hoping for a John Carpenter one," Bill replied.

"I sometimes do forget you wrote scary books back on Earth, Big Bill," Richie thought out loud. "This suburban life must seem boring, huh?"

"Nah, man," Bill smiled wide, taking a good look at the seven of them. "It's perfect."


	6. Chapter 6

The smell of popcorn and candy was comforting, sweet. The soothing murmur of their friends talking before the movie grew softer as the lights dimmed. Eddie held Richie's chin and tilted his head to kiss him.

"You taste like gummy bears," Eddie commented appreciatively.

"Mmm," Richie smiled mischievously, "I ate a whole bag just for you."

"That bag was for the two of us to share!"

"I saved you chocolate covered raisins, Eds," Richie offered.

"You hate raisins, you dickswab."

"Exactly."

Eddie took them anyway, just mildly annoyed now.

Janet stood in front of the screen. There was a charming, little thing the Good Place did; instead of movie trailers they got a quirky announcement.

"This movie night is sponsored by the sound the stars made the day you were born" or "by the feeling of everyone singing along at your favorite concert" or maybe "by this pair of otters holding hands in the river." They got to experience that for three minutes and then the movie started. It was nice. And so Richie laid back and threw an arm around Eddie's shoulders, half hoping the movies were bad so they could make out the whole while.

"Hi, there," Janet said. "This movie night is sponsored by your memories of the summer of 1989."

"Wait, you fixed that?" Eddie jumped in his seat.

"In a way," Janet said. "This is our seventh attempt. We have high hopes for you," she gave them all a thumbs up. Suddenly, the fact that there were no neighbors outside of their circle was very noticeable.

"Are we all watching Richie's and Eddie's memories?" Bill asked, frowning.

"Not really, this is more of a group thing," Janet replied calmly. "Can any of you name your hometown?" A confused murmur went through the room.

"I'm from Pittsburgh and Stan is from..." Patty said, her intonation ending in a question mark.

"What's going on?" Mike asked the question everyone was thinking.

"You are all good people," Janet declared. "You went through the Middle Place like it was child's play but your memories were damaged from the beginning. When you first arrived, we tried fixing that, restoring them like a computer backup. You all short-circuited, fried your brains, and burned your hair."

"Ha! That's hilarious! Will we see that?" Richie cackled and seven faces turned to glare at him. "What? It is funny!"

"Babe, are you going to be like this the whole time? I swear I'll switch seats with Bev," Eddie warned him.

"Hey, don't get me into this!" Bev hollered.

"N-no one is changing seats!" Bill declared.

"Sorry, Janet," Stan said stoically.

She smiled. "Any questions so far?"

"G-georgie," Bill mumbled. "Was that real?"

"Everything you've experienced here is real. This is the Good Place, this is your neighborhood. The only thing that is missing is your memories."

"Why does Patty remember and we don't?" Bev asked.

"She didn't have a run in with an eternal being, the rest of you did. We'll get to that in a minute," Janet looked almost excited at the prospect.

"What about the soulmate shit?" Richie asked, trying not to sound too needy. Eddie grabbed onto his thigh. 'I'm not going anywhere,' he seemed to say.

"That's not strictly true but it was a shortcut. You kept finding Eddie, we literally could not keep you apart," Janet shrugged. "You chose each other. You all did."

"That's so romantic," Ben commented.

"Yes, very moving," Stan said flatly. "Janet, when you say seventh attempt you mean we've been through this six separate times and we don't remember? We've met and seen the neighborhood and you try to fix us and when it doesn't work, we forget?"

"Yes," Janet replied simply.

"Even Patty?" Stan sounded almost outraged.

"She chose you, Stan," Janet repeated. "And she chose to go along with you."

"Sounds like something I'd do, to be honest," Patty admitted dryly.

"I don't want to forget this. I don't," Eddie shook his head emphatically.

"It's your right, of course," Janet didn't look surprised.

"Wait, wait," Mike stood up, turning around so that he was facing everyone. "Whatever we forgot... It's got to be important. We did this voluntarily six times before."

"W-what is it, Janet?" Bill asked.

"You knew each other, before death."

"Oh, shit," Richie mumbled.

"Something terrible happened to you and you forgot everything; the bad stuff but also the good things. You have taken that risk every time."

"We have to do it," Bill said with determination.

"Can we at least talk about it?" Richie raised his voice.

"I need to know w-what happened to Georgie. I need to know what happened to me, Rich!" Bill stood up, next to Mike, his chest puffed. He was pulling rank, Richie noticed. "Don't you?"

"What I do remember about my life is mediocre at best, Bill. These have been my golden years," Richie opened his arms, trying to encompass not just the room but them, The Losers. "Who cares how I died?"

"I think I wanna do it too," Bev said softly.

"Et tu, Brute?" said Richie, visibly offended.

"There's something about me that I've never understood... If I can see that, maybe I can put it behind me and move on," Bev said, more to herself than anything but it was a feeling that they understood all too well, even Richie, though he'd never admit it.

"What are the odds of this actually working?" Stan asked.

"Pretty high," Janet said, almost proudly. "It's non-invassive, unlike methods we've previously tried. Overall, I would say success probability is lower than getting hit by a lightning but higher than meeting Beyoncé," she added cryptically.

Stan furrowed his brow but he seemed a little more convinced than a minute ago.

"I'll take that chance," Mike said, taking Bill's hand in his.

"Ben, Eddie?" Bill urged them.

"I'm not excited to see old me but I'll go wherever Bev's going," Ben answered.

Everyone turned towards Eddie.

"I'm- I- I'm sorry, Rich. I wanna know," Eddie admitted, his big eyes pleading to Richie.

"What if we forget everything, Eds? What if we forget us?"

"You heard Janet, not even a full reset could wipe an insistent little shit as you from my mind," Eddie argued, somehow both aggressive and sweet.

"This is the seventh attempt, there's seven of us broken Losers..." Mike said, prompting everyone to join the dots. "Lucky number seven! We can't go wrong!"

Richie rolled his eyes, knowing full well that the decision had been taken when Eddie had said yes.

"Fine! I'll do it!" he surrendered with a dramatic sigh. "But I'll complain the whole time."

"Let's d-do this, Janet!" Bill hollered and the room went dark, like the movie was about to begin.

"Remember this is your past and while it might hurt you still, it can't kill you," Janet reminded gently. "You'll be scared but it will pass and you'll be safe here at the end of it all."

None of them were sure what was happening until the screen showed a boy with blue eyes and determined face: Bill. They had all seen him, about that age, playing with his baby brother.

This was how they'd find out.

It started somber. An October afternoon, rainy, two little kids building a paper boat.

"Georgie," Bill gasped. They followed the toddler to the cellar and back, outside to the rain in his boots and raincoat.

And then they saw it, the clown in the sewers.

Bev muffled a cry with the back of her hand. They all knew Pennywise the Dancing Clown was dangerous and deadly on some elemental level, it was in their bones.

"Georgie, don't! Georgie, leave, please! It's just a stupid boat!" Bill screamed; feral, horrible screams, Mike held him tight trying to keep him together, to keep him from harm... But Pennywise opened his mouth. "Georgie!"

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Richie mumbled putting his head between his knees. The two Denborough boys shouted.

Eddie patted Richie's back, soothing. "It's over, Rich," he whispered.

Suddenly, it was summer and there was a boy they all recognized as Mike, holding a captive bolt gun to the head of a sheep. His uncle, pushing him to take the shot: "Someone else is gonna make that choice for you. Except you won't know it until you feel that bolt between your eyes."

It was like a shiver went down everyone's spines, the room a little colder than it was before.

The scene now showed three kids, twelve or thirteen, walking down the hallway of a school, their elbows touching.

"So there's like this church full of Jews, right? And Stan has to take this super Jewy test," it was a high-pitched staccato, a sort of breathless, manic rhythm.

"Are you seeing this, Rich?" Eddie whispered, his eyes were getting wider with surprise.

There he was, sat beside Richie, brown hair and laughter lines. And there he was too, on the screen, wearing a pink shirt and a fanny pack. Eddie.

"You were so cute, Eddie! Cute, cute, cute!" Richie shook Eddie's arm.

"No, look!" Eddie pointed at the other side of the hallway.

"No, fucking way!" Richie gasped.

He saw his middle school self, with his thick ass glasses, doing some crass bit about Stan's dick. Sandwiched between Eddie and Richie, was Bill, the glue that kept them all together. Catching up behind them, was Stan, with immaculate clothes and curly hair.

Richie couldn't really remember that moment or them together exactly. But it made sense, it felt right. Of course the boy he followed around like a duckling, the boy he had told Eddie about, was Bill. Of course Stan would silently roll his eyes at every word he spewed. Of course Eddie was the first boy he ever fell in love with.

Then there was Beverly, placidly putting out a cigarette in a bathroom stall. There was something world-weary about the way she spat to the girl that was bullying her: "What is it? Am I slut or a little shit?" She was a badass, even then.

Finally, there was Ben, who was clumsy and kind and already in love with Bev three minutes after meeting her.

It all played out very slow and way too fast. Richie struggled to keep up with the twists and turns of their sleuthing but there were certain things that were very easy to grasp: the visceral disgust he felt for Bowers and his gang, the dread he felt about ever being outed, the absolute thrill of playing footsie and sharing a hammock with Eddie.

It dawned on him suddenly: He had loved him all this time.

Maybe he had snuck late at night into Eddie's bedroom to talk because the day hadn't been long enough, whispering so that Mrs K wouldn't hear them. Maybe they had made plans of leaving town together, of sharing an apartment in some coastal city, well away from Derry. Maybe they had gotten drunk for the first time together, stumbling messily back home, slurring nonsense, Eddie's mouth a little too close to his face and Richie getting intoxicated with that feeling alone.

On the screen, his younger self grabbed Eddie's face, both of them terrified, Eddie screaming in pain from his broken arm, as Pennywise crawled towards them.

"Look at me! Look at me, Eds!" he screamed.

Beside him, Eddie, the forty year old one, took his hand. They had obviously survived that particular moment but the fact remained that when faced with danger, Richie had decided Eddie was the last thing he wanted to see.

Against all odds, they defeated It, took a blood oath and lived to see another day. In hindsight, Richie wished that the same blind courage that had made him brandish a bat in Pennywise's direction had remained inside him and made him tell Eddie... Something, anything...

He tried to say it again when they returned to Derry twenty-seven years later; 'tried' being the key word.

"Wait, so Eddie, you got married? To, like, a woman?" (What the fuck, Eds?)

"Eduardo, ándale, let’s go!" (I don't want anything to happen to you, Eds.)

"You're braver than you think." (You're brave, I love that about you.)

"Eddie?! Eddie!" (I can't lose you I just found you!)

It's claw stabbed Eddie and left him bleeding in Richie’s arms. Richie held Eddie more carefully than he'd held anything in his life. If the Losers had been the heroes of some wonderful epic they'd be reunited, fighting side by side and defeating Pennywise with the power of their friendship. But their lives had never been straightforward or easy. Stan was dead, Bill was aiming for his own head with a captive bolt gun, Ben was being buried alive, Bev was drowning in blood, Mike was choking on smoke, and Richie was holding Eddie’s body as it became limp and cold, the cave collapsing around them.

They all caught a glimpse of some place, somewhere bright and safe; Stan was waiting there. In his hand, a tiny turtle, made of pure light, reassured them: “You will all be alright. Keep fighting, he’s getting weak. We’ll take care of him.”

Stan smiled at them. “You’ve been so brave. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But let me help.”

“Took you long enough, Stanthony,” Richie complained, still pressing on Eddie’s chest to stop the bleeding.

Stan left the turtle right at the center of the cave, its light getting brighter and brighter, dimming the shadows of the lair. Nothing was quite as scary as it had been a minute ago.

The foundations of the cave were cracking, each one of the Losers was using their very last breath to fight It. Stan walked towards Pennywise, the clown’s face looked contorted and pathetic when he was out of the shadows.

“You’re just a clown, you know that, right? A silly clown with no friends and no home,” Stan said dryly. "And, yes, we might be just Losers but you're not winning this one. You're weak and we are not afraid of you, not anymore."

"Tell- tell him, Stan," Eddie mumbled, his mouth was full of blood but a smile was playing on his lips.

Richie could hear Bev kicking at the door of the stall and Mike coughing, trying to get away from the fire. He was holding Eddie, trying to keep him alive but it was not enough, he had to be braver, for all of them, they deserved that much.

“Hey, Eddie. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Wh-What’s up, Richie?” Eddie struggled to breathe; his windpipe was making an awful gargling sound.

“I- I love you, Eds, I always have,” it wasn’t the grand declaration he had thought about when he was younger; it came out between sobs and yelled to be heard over the sound of rocks falling and Pennywise screeching and whatever sublime sound the magic turtle was making.

Eddie’s smile grew wider, his grip on Richie’s arm tighter… And then it stopped. Everything. Eddie stopped breathing and time stood still, his face forever frozen in that tender smile that was only for Richie.

The light that had been growing in intensity, became blinding. Every sound could be heard at the same time: the kick of boots on wooden doors and the shot of a gun and the collapse of the cave and the dying howl of a vile creature.

The lights of the cinema turned on. They allowed a moment of silence, just to take it all in. How brave they had been, how cruel fate could be, how lucky they were to have found each other again. Eddie squeezed Richie’s hand.

“I love you, Rich,” he said, his eyes a little watery. “I think I always have,” he added and kissed him.

“You think?!” Richie complained when they parted.

“I don’t remember everything just yet,” Eddie shrugged and added: “But we have time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been wonderful, guys! Thanks for sticking with these dumbasses and me. Leave your questions, suggestions and thoughts below. I love to read them <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Moodboard is [here](https://aralisj.tumblr.com/post/190185788106/its-only-been-a-lifetime-ao3-everybody)  
> Come talk to me at my tumblr (@aralisj) if you want :)


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